


A Voracious Hunger

by virdant



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asexuality, Food, Future Tense, M/M, Omega Will Graham, Past Tense, Present Tense, Sometimes I like to play with tenses okay, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 05:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16444064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virdant/pseuds/virdant
Summary: A few weeks ago, Alana asked if wouldn’t he rather be mated, and Will had shrugged. “Somebody to help you through your heats,” Alana suggested.Will had not replied. He had not said that he had never wanted somebody to help him through his heats. Somebody to walk the dogs with him, yes. Somebody to share meals with. Somebody to have conversations with.--Hannibal asks to accompany Will on his heat. Will thinks, and thinks, and thinks.





	A Voracious Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> Once, I said to Ellie: "you know what would be interesting? If somebody wrote asexual a/b/o."  
> Ellie, unwisely, said: "yes, that would be interesting."  
> A few weeks later, here we are. 
> 
> Happy Ace Awareness Week. (I made it according to _my_ timezone and sometimes that has to be enough.)

Hannibal says, “Would you like me there for your heat?”

Will thinks.

The last time his heat came, he pushed it to the side—just for a moment, the same way he pushes hunger or thirst to the side until he has the time and resources to slake that need. He’d fed his dogs, let them out to do their business, and then took a moment prepare the rest of his house in Wolf Trap: a plastic sheet on the mattress underneath his sheets, a pallet of water bottles by his bed along with a box of Clif bars. He moved a fish from the freezer to the fridge to defrost slowly. Dogs taken care of, and potential dehydration warded off, Will settled in bed with his bottle of lube and a dildo or two, prepared to work himself over and then nap before the next round.

Heat is a voracious hunger, but hunger fades when it’s fed, and Will knows exactly how to satisfy himself.

Will thinks again.

This time, when his heat comes, Hannibal will be there. It will surge through him, like the tide at night, creeping deeper and deeper until he is subsumed in desire. Hannibal will take him by the neck—

Hannibal will take him by the arm. His hand will be warm, firm on his bicep. It will demand nothing. “Will,” he will say.

And Will, instead of saying anything, will kiss him. Will step into his embrace. Will slake his hunger and thirst on Hannibal, Hannibal, Hannibal—

Will, instead, will say, “Hannibal. My heat’s come.”

“I can see that.”

Hannibal will take him and lead him to the bedroom, with its four-poster bed and its heavy curtains. His touch will be gentle when he strips them bare, and Will will lean into the touch, will let the warmth of Hannibal settle him.

He will need more.

He will touch Hannibal, firm muscles, the heavy cock, so different from the dildo he’s always used. He has touched Hannibal before, but not like this. Not when his heat has come. He will look into Hannibal’s eyes and for once, he will _want_ —

No. He will take Hannibal’s cock, and it will be fine, of course it will be fine. It will be warm and fill him and it will be like water after a day of thirst, food after a day of hunger, satisfaction after a day of desire. It will fill him and everything will be fine. He will take his fill and Hannibal will provide the same way he has provided food and drink every time Will visits. It will be fine. The minutes, the hours, the days—they will blur, one after another, until there is only Hannibal, Hannibal—

It will be fine. It is only need, and the means to fulfill it.

And afterwards?

Will thinks.

A few weeks ago, Alana asked if wouldn’t he rather be mated, and Will had shrugged. “Somebody to help you through your heats,” Alana suggested.

Will had not replied. He had not said that he had never wanted somebody to help him through his heats. Somebody to walk the dogs with him, yes. Somebody to share meals with. Somebody to have conversations with.

Will thinks.

They will remain knotted for a while, long enough for discomfort to set in. Hannibal will press open mouthed kisses to the back of his neck, where a bite would mark them as mates. Hannibal will hold him, the two of them slick with sweat and slick alike. Will will look at Hannibal and want more, and more, and more. It will be Hannibal that arouses him, Hannibal that matters, Hannibal that drives him to want. They will fit together as if they were always meant to be: copulation is the only way to know—

When discomfort sets in, Will will turn away, and Hannibal will let him go. Will has never been prone to excess, and heat is no different. It will take time for Hannibal’s knot to deflate, but when it does, they will lie side-by-side, the tips of their fingers touching.

Hannibal will not ask if that was good. Will will not answer. When the need sets in, yet again, they will copulate again. When it fades, they will draw apart. Again and again, over and over, until Will’s heat ends. And when it ends…

Hannibal will draw him a bath. He will prepare a meal. Will will join him in the dining room, and they will sit across from each other. Hannibal’s hands will be steady as he serves: crisp salads that crunch under their teeth, warm meats that melt on their tongue, sweet desserts that linger long after the hunger is fed. They will take their time: a meal is to be savored. He will linger over the crisp lettuce, each bite clean and refreshing. He will savor the warm meats, tender and succulent, breaking down under canines and molars, flakes of salt sharp counterpoints to rich iron. He will slow during the dessert, as if to keep the meal from ending: each bite light and sweet, bright sugar and soft cream.

They will retire to the study where they sit, side-by-side, their shoulders pressed against each other. He will feel Hannibal’s warmth through their shirts; Hannibal will press a hand, palm face-up, in the space between their knees.

He will curl his fingers in the gaps, until they are joined, Will’s and Hannibal’s and Will’s and Hannibal’s, one after another, until they blur together.

They will say nothing.

Will thinks.

That night, they will return back to bed. The sheets will be stripped, replaced with clean linens. They will crawl into bed, one after another. They will lie, side-by-side, unburdened by heat. He will draw the blankets up his chest. Beside him, Hannibal will do to the same. He will turn, and Hannibal will turn to meet him. And when Will reaches, one hand towards Hannibal, Hannibal will meet him from where they lie. 

In this bed, it will only be Will and Hannibal. Just the two of them, exactly as they are.

Hannibal waits.

And Will, after due consideration, says, “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> The real summary of this story is: "who cares about dicks when you can have dinner instead". 
> 
>  
> 
> \--
> 
> comments and kudos always appreciated!
> 
> want to talk writing? [follow me on tumblr](https://virdant.tumblr.com/) | [follow me on twitter](https://twitter.com/virdant)


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